Cosmic Aria
by purrpickle
Summary: Gold stars aren't just metaphors, you know. Not really. Not when Rachel enters her second phase and inadvertently comes out to the glee club. And now she can't go back in. Because when it's the closet of this little thing called 'humanity', you remember.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **I don't own Glee nor the characters within. Okay, okay, I know. It's like I'm throwing random ideas against a wall and gathering up the words left over. But if you must know, I was driving home from school when the first line to this fic slammed into my head like a wrecking ball. And for this little beginning, I could _not _convince myself that I didn't want to write more to it. No matter how... _Nonsensical _this is. It seems fun and I like writing fun things (even if I'm writing a lot of angst on the side).

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><p>In the middle of glee club, Rachel's arm fell off.<p>

Staring down at it, she smoothly knelt to pick it up, turned away from everyone else, and jimmied it back into place. Then, flexing her hand and rolling her shoulder, she sighed, smiled, and turned back around. "I'm sorry, Mr. Schuester. May we start from the beginning?"

Everyone leaped away from her, diving behind the piano and knocking down chairs. "What the _hell_?" Puck barked, the only one seemingly able to say anything.

"I'm sorry," Rachel smiled hesitantly, eyes flitting around the room, "I've just entered into my second phase, so I still don't have perfect control over everything."

"Don't have… Don't have perfect _control_? _Second phase_?" Quinn spluttered, "What the hell _are _you?"

Rachel drew herself up straight. "How _rude_."

"Are… Are you a zombie?" Mike squinted, still not relaxing from where he had placed himself in front of Tina.

Rachel huffed. "Don't be _silly_, Michael. There're no such _things _as zombies."

Brittany chewed on her lip, staring intensely at Rachel, then stepped forward. Avoiding Santana and Quinn's frantic grabs, she walked straight up to the small girl. "Are you a starfish?" she asked.

Smiling, Rachel shook her head. "No, I'm not a starfish, Brittany. Nor what is more proper: a sea star."

"Oh." The blonde nodded. "I just wondered because you regrew your arm. Can I see?" And, without waiting for an answer, Brittany had shoved the sleeve of Rachel's shirt up. "Lord Tubbington grew a new tail once, you know."

"Technically, I reattached it." Rachel tilted her head. "Does Lord Tubbington love pickles?"

Brittany paused. "Pickles are his favorite food…" Her eyebrows raised, and she leaned in close towards Rachel's face, "How d'you _know _that?"

"God, get away before freaky jaws erupt from Rachel's face and she swallows you whole!" Santana snapped as she yanked Brittany back, pushing her at Quinn to hold her back.

Rolling her eyes, Rachel crossed her arms. "Unfortunately, Santana," her voice dripped scorn, "That's not until my twelfth phase. _Darn_. No tasty blonde snacks for me." She shook her head. Walking towards the piano, she paused when members of the jazz band sprinted towards the safety of the rest of the club near the risers as she approached. Frowning, she took a seat on the piano bench, rotating to face everyone. She crossed her ankles, dropping her hands into her lap, "Fine. Ask away."

Finn looked like he wasn't sure if he should be throwing up or lapsing into shock. "Rachel? What…? I didn't imagine that, did I?"

Not saying a word, Rachel shook her head.

"Wait, wait, wait." Mr. Schuester put a hand up, then ran it through his hair. "As the adult here, I think I'm qualified to ask you directly: _What_?"

Rachel pursed her lips, then blew air out of her mouth. She looked away, towards the wall at a Cheerios poster, and raked her hair back from her face. "_Yes_, Dad warned me this might happen, but _no_. I care too much about my _future_, apparently. After all, 'a singer's duty is never done, and I cannot live in fear of discovery because it will hold me back'. Ugh!" She buried her head into her hands. "Why now? Wasn't it the _third _phase I had to worry about?"

"I'm still thinking you're one second away from snapping and _eating _us, or are you goin' all leper? So get to '_splainin_', Yentl from the Black Lagoon," Santana called out.

"I'm not Jewish."

"What?"

"I'm not Jewish," Rachel muttered again, then let out another annoyed huff and looked up from her hands. She glared sullenly at Santana, then looked to Puck. "I mean, I am. Religiously. But not… Ethnically. And you could say… Terrestrially." Her eyes skittered away, and she shuffled her shoulders before firming them and raising her chin. When she smiled, her eyes filled with solid, burnished silver, and her appearance rippled for a second into an… _otherworldly _pale, exotic visage before blinking herself back to normal. "I'm an alien."


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Dialogue that is completely in _italics _means it's not in English. Should be obvious, but thought I'd note it anyway.

* * *

><p>Rachel sighed. It had been over five minutes, and still no one had attempted to say anything. "Everyone, I'm not… Going to <em>eat <em>you," she offered, trying to catch everyone's gazes, "Nor am I going to do _any _of what Hollywood is making you fear I am going to do." She smiled, "I'm still _me_."

"…If _you _is a complete _lie_…" Finn spoke up, concentrating on something to his right. His brows drawing together, he lifted his gaze to look at her, "I'm sorry, Ra – a, but how are we _supposed _to react?"

Small shoulders shrugged up, and Rachel laced her hands on her knee. "I… Don't know. I'm out of _my _element here, you know. You guys are the first… Well, _humans _I've told. And even then it wasn't by…" She lowered her voice, looking away, "By choice."

"Are you afraid?"

"What?"

"Are you afraid?" Brittany repeated, "Of us? I'd be afraid if I was the only different one in the room."

Rachel stared at her, then swallowed. She shrugged again. Red appearing on her cheeks, she pushed her hair behind her shoulder and smiled hesitantly. "I am."

"Wait…" Santana scowled. "_You're_… Afraid of _us_? _You're _the fuckin' monster."

Rachel flinched. "Please, don't call me that. I can understand how you can be _confused _and… And _scared_, but what can I say or do to make you guys realize I haven't changed at all? That's it's really _not _a problem that you know and I'm _not _going to do anything to… To _ensure _your silence?"

From where he was between Sam and the drummer, Artie slightly rolled forward enough to catch her attention. "How do we know you're telling the truth?"

"Have I ever lied?" Rachel asked, then immediately flushed and held up her hand, "Don't answer that. Okay. Aside from crack houses and humanity and sleeping with Jesse, have I ever lied?"

His chin on his hands with his elbows on his knees, Mr. Schuester stared at her. "You're asking a lot, Rachel."

Nodding, but before she could respond, Mercedes, who had been hugging her backpack to her chest, spoke up, "Is that even your name?"

A real smile tugged at Rachel's lips. "Yes, though it's been heavily accented in your language. It's not so much different than my birth name, however, so – "

"_Your _language?" Sam took a seat and leaned forward, interest making his face brighten, "You have your own language? Is it anything like Na'vi?"

"Yes." She nodded, then shook her head, "No. More like the Quenya language of Middle Earth." Mike, Tina, Brittany, Sam, and Artie all nodded in comprehension, while Puck leaned over towards Quinn, "What?"

She glared at him. "Lord of the Rings."

"Oh. Then why didn't she just _say _that?"

Quinn didn't even bother answering. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at Rachel. "So…" she started, her cool voice cutting through the speech Rachel had been mentally working in her brain, "Last week, when you were singing, you _were _actually – "

Rachel blushed deeply. "You saw that?" she quickly interjected, holding up her hand to tell Quinn to stop talking, _please_, "Yes. As I said, it's my second phase, so when I don't concentrate hard enough, I have… Hiccups."

"Water helps," Brittany smiled, "Especially when you drink it upside down."

"Thank you, Brittany. I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Okay, okay, please, wait just a second." Sitting up straight, Rachel collected everyone's gazes again, "This will go so much easier if you just write down your questions. I'll be happy to answer everything I can. Mr. Schuester?" She turned to him, "I formally apologize for taking up this valuable class time with my personal issues. However, as I can imagine that nothing would get done until _some _sort of clarity is gained, I feel it is better to get the questions out of the way so they do not clutter up later class sessions."

Mr. Schuester slowly nodded. Clearing his throat, he reached behind him and felt for his briefcase he'd grabbed in his mad dash. "That sounds like a good idea…" he smiled faintly.

"Who has paper?" Santana demanded, "Seriously? People. Who has paper?"

Kurt exchanged wide eyed glances with Mercedes. "_So_ many questions…" he breathed, accepting the pen Mercedes handed him.

"That's for sure," Mike muttered, picking up a downed chair and righting it before letting Tina sit down in it.

Keeping a smile on her face for whomever looked up at her as papers shuffled, pencils and pens flying around the room as both the glee club and jazz band shared whatever amenities they had around them in the form of scattered backpacks and binders, Rachel could feel her normally quiet second heart fluttering behind her main one. Resting her fingers over where it was situated, she started humming. Making sure to keep it at a lower level so that it wouldn't be too noticeable, she let her mind wander.

"Uhh…" Tina cleared her throat a couple of minutes later, "Where… Where do you want the questions?"

Blinking herself back into focus, Rachel smiled and motioned at the chair farthest away from where they were sitting, "Feel free to drop them there and I'll pick them up when enough have been amassed. As well, I encourage you all to continue writing down questions if and when they come to you, so don't feel obligated to know what you want to know _right away_."

That finished, Rachel went back to her humming, turning her attention to tightening up the binding that kept her together. She couldn't believe she had been so careless as to allow herself to fall apart like that – at least it was only one out of the seven phases her species went through that affected her physiology so.

"Rachel?"

Rachel looked up, then smiled. "Brittany?"

The blonde looked confused, holding out her cell phone. "Lord Tubbington wants you to call him."

"Oh?"

"I texted him about your pickle question."

Ohh. "Okay," Rachel nodded, reaching out to take the phone, "I'd be happy to talk to him." Probably about time, she thought; to be truthful, she should have been paying more attention to the tall blonde's tales of her cat. Ah well, the past was the past. Putting the phone up to her ear after hitting the **Call Contact **button, Rachel turned her body away from the rest of the occupants of the room, and, acutely aware of their hot stares and straining ears, she greeted the answering "Meow?" with a polite, "Mrow ma."

"Mrow ma! _The girl was correct. Greetings, satyrn_."

"_Indeed she was. Greetings, shadeling. It is my honor to speak to you_." Adding the extra inflection into her speech that denoted respect after easily transitioning into the Terran dialect of the shadeling language, she tilted her head to the side, "_Forgive me, but would you mind if I changed to English? I have people who are easily unnerved around me._" And goodness knows Rachel speaking in growls and mews _wasn't _unnerving.

"Oh, of course not. I shall join you." The raspy voice of Lord Tubbington sounded a little out of practice, and Rachel could imagine him trying to form the words with his cat muzzle. Shadelings, unlike Rachel's species, were more closely tied to their assumed forms. "However, I was only calling in hopes of inviting you and your… Family, I'm assuming?"

"Mmhm," Rachel smiled, "My unit is with me."

Lord Tubbington made a pleased noise. "Excellent! Do you suppose we could schedule a time to rendezvous? While Brittany is a wonderful girl, she is still human."

Rachel nodded, understanding his statement. "Say no more. I believe my unit would be quite happy to make more acquaintances. The Berræ-dan are always happy to network."

"And the Tubbîn-tun are always happy to reciprocate." Letting out a happy purr, the cat added that he'd provide the pickles, asked her to bring the tea, and wished her a good day.

"Good day to you as well." Grinning widely, Rachel hung up. It wasn't very often she met another completely integrated citizen, and definitely, for being a shadeling, he was very lucky to have a cover like Brittany. Perhaps, she mused, loosely cupping the phone in her hands as she studied the blonde across the room, with Brittany's willingness to accept the _different_, Rachel had one guaranteed supporter. Her eyes strayed to the brunette next to her, and Rachel sucked her lip into her mouth. She knew she had a lot of work to do to get the support of the girl whose support she wanted the most of all.


	3. Chapter 2

_Do you have tentacles?_

"What the – _really_? The first question one of you wants to ask me is if I have _tentacles_?" Throwing her head up, Rachel huffed and stuffed the paper into the recycling bin she had previously pulled over to her. "Okay, no." She gave everyone a pointed glare just to cover all of her bases, "I do not have tentacles."

The bass player wilted a little, and Rachel rolled her eyes. "Okay… Moving on. Next one…" Shuffling through the pile of papers she had in her hands, she picked one out at random.

_Can you have sex? Like, is your body compatible?_

"You guys are perverts!" Forcing herself to take a deep breath and calm down, she quickly read out the question and answered succinctly, "Yes."

Not surprisingly, murmurs started up from the assembled people in front of her, and not for the first time, Rachel had to pretend she couldn't understand them. If not asked outright, there were some things she'd keep to herself.

Suddenly, Brittany's hand shot up into the air. "Rachel! Rachel!"

A wide smile crossed Rachel's face, and she nodded for the blonde to ask her question; it was really nice to have at least _someone _who was relaxed enough to engage her directly.

"Can you have babies? Like, if you had sex with Mr. Schuester, would the stork come?"

Mr. Schuester jerked, and he stared wide-eyed at Brittany. "Why _me_?" he demanded, gesturing at himself and furrowing his brow, "That's not appropriate, Brittany."

"Yeah, like that _vest's _appropriate," Santana muttered, as if it was her goal in life to get as many zings about Mr. Schuester's vest collection she could in a day; Rachel almost respected her for her determination to see it through even in a situation such as this.

Brittany shrugged as she gave him a 'duh' expression, saying as if it was obvious, "'Cuz you're the adult. It's easier for the stork to find adults."

"Ahum." Clearing her throat, Rachel brought the attention back to her. "Nice question, Brittany, but let's keep anyone _specific_ out of this, okay?"

The blonde pouted, but she nodded, Santana dropping a hand to her knee to squeeze it reassuringly before going back to staring distrustfully at Rachel.

"Yes, you're asking if I can… Have a hybrid baby?" _Embarrassing _question. However, fact was… "I don't know." She shrugged, absently bringing a hand up to twirl her hair. "There isn't a very big community of my kind around, and though I am aware of cross-_dating_," she dropped her hand to bob it up and down carelessly in the air, "That particular information is… Well… Kept under wraps. For a variety of reasons." Some of which which were absurd, in her opinion.

Quinn studied her intensely, and, looking around to see what the people around her's expressions were, she pursed her lips and sat up. "You… _Are _female, though?"

Bursting into laughter, Rachel hid her mouth behind the remaining questions, using the paper as a shield in case part of her disguise flickered while her mouth was open. Laughter was a little too chaotic sometimes. "Wanting to see if your nicknames of Man Hands and Trannie are appropriate?" she giggled, her lungs actually beginning to constrict from the effort of keeping enough air in her bloodstream to sustain her without her back-up systems switching on.

Her cheeks turning pink, Quinn sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, "I don't think my question warranted _that _kind of reaction."

"I'm sorry." Rachel tried to calm down, dabbing tears from her eyes, "Huhm… Yes." She lowered the papers and smiled, "As my fathers are what you would classify as 'male', I am similarly biologically 'female'. I am not hermaphroditic, and neither am I asexual." And that was _all _she was going to say on that subject. "Any other questions…?"

When everyone looked too interested in studying her out of the corners of their eyes, she pulled out another paper. Her eyebrows quirked. "_How many fingers and toes do you have?_ Hmm." Holding one of her hands out in front of her and spreading her fingers, she likewise raised one of her feet to look at it through her shoe. She shrugged. "Ten fingers and ten toes, sorry. Really, I'm not _too _different, physically, than you all."

"Then how _are _you different?" Santana challenged.

"Dude, no fair," Sam frowned, "That was my question."

"_Sorry_. Not." Barely paying him any attention, Santana arched an imperial eyebrow. "We've already gotten a glimpse at your Casper the Friendly Ghost impression, but yeah, for all we know you didn't show us your _real _horror like you're showing us a real horror of harpy-nosed midget-ism. So. _E.T._, spill."

At least E.T. was better than monster.

Rachel chewed on her lower lip. "Wasn't… Wasn't that one second _enough_?" she asked plaintively, scrunching the fabric of her skirt with one hand. She didn't think she was ugly, and she knew she didn't have anything so _weird _as to – pardon the phrase – _alienate _herself farther from her peers (she hadn't been lying when she said she wasn't too physically different), but… "I mean," she took a deep breath, "I wish not to do this here, where I cannot guarantee my complete safety.

"But," she continued before anyone could respond, "I only have two eyes, one nose, one mouth, and two arms and legs, even if they decide to fall off every now and then." She grimaced. "And I'm my same height, same proportions."

In the silence, Sam spoke up, "But that's not really telling us what's _different_. And why do your limbs – "

"Too bad!" Rachel cut him off. Shaking her head, she raked her hair back from her face and diverted her attention to the questions again. "_Are you vegan because you're an alien?_" she read out loud.

Using all her strength, she kept her face from turning white. "No," she answered shortly, "That's completely my choice." Yes, it really wouldn't be a good idea to tell them what her _natural _diet was.

"Next… _Have you probed any _– no! My god, you're starting to _insult _me, here! However, however," Rachel took another deep breath, drawing herself up stately, "There is no better time to dispel these fallacies than now, so I will hold my emotions in check." No, it wasn't _their _fault Hollywood only told them about the dark side of the alien occupancy.

_How old are you?_

Oh, that one would be easy to answer. Looking up, Rachel smiled at her audience. "I'm 24. Each year for you takes me one and a half years to develop the same amount."

"So how long is your lifespan?" Lauren called out, and Rachel did a double-take.

"Oh, Lauren, I almost forgot you were in here. Well." She cleared her throat, ignoring the large girl's glare, "My fathers have both celebrated their hundredth Earth year."

Puck sat up straight. "That is not _fair_!"

…Maybe Rachel shouldn't have mentioned that. Pursing her lips, she watched Puck to see if he would follow up the outburst with anything else, finally moving her gaze around the rest of the room. It had seemed like she had been making progress with her friends, but she'd forgotten one thing: envy made for bad bedfellows. If they had figured she had the same lifespan they did, as well as no tentacles or anything _out of this world_ as that, she had just reminded them it wasn't so black and white, and there _was _something predominantly different about her.

She sighed. There went her progress. Might as well drop the last bomb. "Anyone want to ask if I have any special powers?" she asked, half smiling.


	4. Chapter 3

It wasn't like Rachel was cheating. Just because she had a natural… edge…over others, she still hadn't taken the _easy _way out. She'd _worked _for where she was, and she knew she still had a lot of work to do to continue being where she was. She wasn't like her ancestors (in many ways, thankfully), and, you know, Rachel was happy she didn't have it as "easy" as her ancestors had. She actually _liked_ her friends.

But perhaps she should keep that specific ability to herself. At this moment in time, they really wouldn't understand. And, perhaps, they'd _never _understand.

Sighing, Rachel decided she'd start on the _other _spectrum, then. "I can breathe underwater," she announced without preamble. After a pause, she corrected herself, "Salt water." Fingering her sleeve, she continued again, "Chlorine burns, but if I don't try to breathe, well, like you don't try to breathe, I'm fine."

The bass player sat up, and Rachel glared at him. "_No_. No tentacles." Then, taking a deep breath, she widened her scope of vision to see how everyone was reacting.

'Breathe underwater,' Finn was mouthing to himself, and she could hear the name _Aquaman _being furiously whispered between Sam and Mike and Artie.

"_Salt water_." Quinn frowned. "That's… Random."

Tina nodded, slowly raising her hand. "Uhm… Do you have gills?"

Shaking her head, Rachel really _wasn't _lying when she said no. She was just… Fibbing a little. She did have little strips of extra skin on both sides of her neck that if she really needed to she could retract, but it had been years since she had, and she was almost sure they'd grown over by now. They were only attached to her secondary systems, after all, unlike her airway which managed to connect to both her secondary and primary sets of lungs.

When Brittany whispered, "Starfish," to herself, Rachel had to stifle a grin. Sliding her gaze from the blonde over to Santana, she tried to decipher what the brunette was thinking. Looking a little pensive and tapping a finger against her knee, Santana's head was tilted as she studied Rachel, and when she noticed that Rachel was looking back at her, she smoothly transitioned into an unimpressed, suspicious expression.

Sighing mentally, she nodded at Lauren, "Yes?"

"Do you have webbed hands and feet?"

"Fins?" Kurt added, Mercedes adding a second later, "Scales?" and Brittany quickly following with, "A tail?"

Rachel held back a snort. Crossing her ankles again, she shifted to make herself more comfortable on the piano bench. Instead of answering outright, she asked, "Who here has held my hand?"

When she paused, Finn, Puck, Sam, Mike, Brittany, and Mercedes slowly raised their hands. Rachel rolled her eyes. "The answer to that is _everyone_," she corrected, "Alright, mostly everyone, minus Mr. Schuester and the members of the jazz band. At one time or the other, be it for dance or a performance, the rest of you have held my hand. You have _touched _me. So tell me." She smiled, "Do I have webbed appendages or scales?"

Mostly everyone nodded. However, "That doesn't cover the tail," Santana challenged.

Rachel put a hand to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. "If you think about it," she sighed, raising her head to glare balefully at Santana, "I have worn numerous skin tight things over the course of my time in high school and this club. No. I do not have a tail. Nor fins." She straightened, firming her shoulders and lifting her chin; whatever the reason, this line of questioning was annoying her, "I am not the Creature from the Black Lagoon. I am not a mermaid. I am not a selkie."

"…Fabric?" Brittany leaned over and whispered to Santana.

Santana glared at her. "How the hell should I know?"

"Seal fairy," Mr. Schuester offered, and Rachel smiled at him in acknowledgement, "Yes. I do not have a seal skin to slip back into."

Sam stared at her. "Okay, now you've _completely_ lost me."

Rachel waved him off. "It doesn't matter." Time to get everything back on track. "The only important thing is that I have, essentially, the same skin you have. Only I…" She blushed, looking away, "I…" Oh how she wished this wasn't as utterly _embarrassing _as it was. Pushing her hair back from her face, she absently started petting it, "Well, a side effect of being as pale as I really am, as well as being a little phosphorous, I, well… I glow in the moonlight."

There was a beat of silence, and then everyone other than Mr. Schuester and Brittany let out an amused sound or started laughing. "You _mean_," Quinn smirked, "You're like a… _Nocturnal vampire_?"

Rachel groaned. "Please stop." Yes, this was the _exact _response she hadn't wanted.

"So is being a whiny emo going to be the next of your _super powers_?" Santana added.

"But Rachel _can't _be a vampire," Brittany frowned, "She eats human food."

"Oh, then how about one of those blue Smurfs?" Puck threw out, "Didn't they, like, glow?"

The Na'vi? In some ways, that felt… Speciesist. Rachel slightly raised her voice. "Please stop. This is not the way to hold a successful discussion." When no one listened to her, she sighed and stood up. Almost immediately the atmosphere of the room changed, most of her audience shifting backwards in their chairs. The voices tapered off. Though that wasn't surprising, it still stung.

She really had a lot to do to earn back their trust. Their… Acceptance.

But first, she needed a drink of water. And that meant Mr. Schuester.

As she took a couple of steps towards her teacher, she could feel the burning focus of everyone watching her movements. When she got close enough to be polite but far enough away not to scare him, she asked politely, "Mr. Schuester, would you mind if I left to get a drink of water? I promise to come back in a timely fashion."

Taking in the rest of the class and staring at her searchingly, Mr. Schuester finally sighed and inclined his head. He gestured towards the nearest door. "Go ahead."

"Thank you." Turning on her heel, numb tingling in her arm socket warned her, and she huffed, sending more concentration to that area, pushing on her arm with her other hand for good measure. Annoying second phase. Once assured it would _not _fall off, she strode quickly out of the room.

When she heard the drummer's hesitant, "Should we try to escape now?" she slowed, then forced herself to continue on. There wasn't anything she could do. If they tried to escape, she'd let them, of course. Though it would really be a worse waste of glee club, trying to force her wishes in _this _matter, at least, wouldn't be beneficial for anything. And maybe it was better if she left them the rest of the day and night to think about everything that had happened. She had a reasonable expectation no one would talk…

Coming upon the water fountain, she stared at it. Though non-salted water wasn't the _nicest _to her stomach, it wouldn't kill her. Especially since after she got her implant. Insofar as her species had adapted to Earth and its chemical makeup, there were still some issues; as it was, Rachel had always thought herself lucky for being born as far along the occupation as she had. A couple of thousands of years later, their integration wasn't perfect, but it was good.

Allowing the cool water to gather in her mouth, waiting for her implant to kick in and realize what she was drinking had to be treated, Rachel looked up when she heard the sound of heavy boots walking up the hall towards her. She blinked and straightened, her surprise making her swallow before she meant to. Grimacing at the icky feeling of her insides trying to shrink away from the liquid, she nonetheless tried to smile when Tina stopped a couple of feet away from her. "Tina?"

Tina tentatively smiled back, then frowned when Rachel couldn't stop another grimace from crossing her face. "Are you okay?" she asked with real concern, a halting request for permission to ask underneath the words.

Rachel nodded. "I just have to, uhm, wait for my body to adapt. I…" she glanced down at the water fountain then looked at Tina again, "I rushed a little."

Tina's expression turned guilty. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's fine."

Still looking unsure, Tina nodded faintly. "If you're sure…"

"Oh, I am." Realizing her response was a little abrupt, Rachel took a deep breath, _finally _feeling her implant sending the right signals to the lining of her stomach. It always tingled oddly, and she turned a shiver into a fidget, smiling apologetically when it drew Tina's eyes back to hers. "I'm sorry; this is a little strange for me. Being able to say the truth. I mean…" She stepped away from the water fountain, thrilling when Tina's body only barely reflexively tensed as she walked towards her, "I suppose I could say the only difference now from me will be a willingness to share more about myself than I have before."

"I think I can understand that." Another smile crossed Tina's face. "It's like my stutter," she said with certainty. "As soon as it came out that it wasn't real – that essentially the person I had been presenting wasn't real, it was incredibly difficult for me to understand I couldn't hide anymore." She paused, then took a deliberate step closer to Rachel. She slowly put her hand out. "Like you can't hide."

Rachel stared at Tina's proffered hand. She had to ask. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

Tina shrugged. "To be honest…" Her lips quirked up, and she smiled at Rachel, looking beautiful and open and nice, "No. Not really."

After a second, Rachel smiled widely. "We really underestimate you, don't we?" she asked, gently wrapping her hand around Tina's and squeezing before letting go.

Tina grinned, sitting back on her heels. "Do you really have to ask?"


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: **I am _loving_ exploring and creating this world.

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><p>"So," Tina mumbled, taking another breadstick and biting into it, "You're really twenty four?"<p>

Rachel nodded, lifting a forkful of lettuce to her mouth. Chewing and swallowing, she took a sip of tea to wash it down with. "Though my memory of existence only begins around age five and a half, my years. Your equivalent of being three."

"_I'm_ not even sure I remember being three years old," Tina muttered, then looked up at Rachel, smile quirking up. "So, then, how did you win your first singing competition at age one?"

Rachel flushed. "Well… You see, we are a very musical species." Oh, how could she phrase this? Carefully. "We enjoy the flow of words and melodies, so we're, uhm, predisposed, I guess you could say, to seeking out melodic pastimes. Though I have no memory of the event, my fathers have video." Shoveling another mouthful of salad into her mouth, she mumbled into her tea, "So technically it was one and a half years old."

After a searching look, Tina thankfully didn't ask the question she could have, smiling instead. Rachel was beginning to realize how intuitive Tina really was; perhaps she had asterothic blood somewhere in her bloodline? She certainly had their preference for dark clothing.

But anyway. There was no use searching for hints of occupation in her friends. Not after what had happened in kindergarten…

Tina smiled, pulling out her phone when it beeped at her. "Oh, Mike's done with practice, and he'll get here soon," she smiled, her expression becoming surprised a second later, "Well. I wasn't expecting that."

"Yes?"

Looking unsure, Tina set her phone down onto the table. "Uhm, Mike's bringing Brittany and Santana with him…"

What? Stopping with her fork stuck into a piece of onion, Rachel stared at her.

"Apparently Brittany really wanted to come along, but Santana wouldn't let her go without her."

"To make sure I don't eat Brittany, I'm sure," Rachel offered glumly. She should have known this was going to happen. Coming back to the choir room to find most of the jazz band and glee club having left already hadn't felt nice. At all. So when Mr. Schuester called an end to the practice due to the lack of members, she hadn't bothered to hurry up leaving, allowing everyone a 'head start'. Brittany had seemed like she wanted to speak to her, but Quinn and Santana had ushered her out, large blue eyes staring at Rachel as long as they could before leaving the room.

Pausing, Tina finally smiled. "Probably," she nodded.

Sighing, Rachel crunched down on her lettuce again. At least that didn't irritate her stomach.

Tina started humming, and Rachel's ears immediately pricked up. Finishing her bite and wiping her mouth with her napkin, she smiled. "Your singing has gotten much better, lately," she complimented, nodding her head in time with Tina's tune.

A soft blush rose on Tina's cheeks, and she slowly trailed off. "I'm still not as perfect as you, but thank you. I do feel like my singing has gotten stronger."

"No, no, don't compare yourself to me," Rachel waved her hand, growling when she had to stop midway to hold her wrist onto her forearm; did her fathers have such problems with _their_ phases? Regardless, she wanted to move the conversation along. Normally she'd be happy to talk about her vocal abilities, but surely not _now_, not with her revealing being so fresh and still (protectively) unknown. "If you'd like, I'd be happy to work with you to get even more out of your abilities?"

"Really? Only about me?"

Rachel nodded. "Only about you. Let me." If there was one thing Rachel knew, it was music, so using music to cultivate this tentative specific friendship seemed like the best thing to do. Hopefully with Tina came Mike, and with Brittany… Never mind.

A soft cough across the room caught Rachel's attention. Turning her head just enough to look behind Tina's beaming face, she raised an eyebrow, dipping her head at the flÿnder sitting at a table, smirking at her. _Only about her_, he mouthed mockingly, _With you satyrns and music, there is no 'only about her'_.

Thank you, too, Sebastian, Rachel rolled her eyes, studiously ignoring him. Just her luck the annoying jerk would be around. For not a large occupation in Ohio, it was amazing how many of the integrated citizens were insufferable. Not sure, however, if that was from a human or satyrn point of view, she filed that in the back of her mind and concentrated on Tina again. "Just let me know when you have free time, okay? If you like, I can show you what my house _truly _looks like."

"_Truly_ looks like?" Sitting up, Tina leaned over the table, "You mean your house really looks like an _alien ship_ or something?"

Rachel lifted her chin. "Chrome walls? Buttons everywhere? Outlandish futuristic furniture?" At Tina's nod, she cracked a grin, giggling and shaking her head. "No, no, I'm kidding. My house is exactly as what you saw. Really, Tina, it's not like now you know the world's going to tilt on its axis."

Deflating, Tina grabbed another breadstick, breaking it in half and taking a bite. While she chewed, her head tilted. "So you're _pure_… Alien?"

"Satyrn," Rachel corrected mildly.

"Satyrn…" Hmming, Tina took another bite, then swallowed. "Okay, you're pure… Satyrn?"

"Mmhm." Going back to her salad, Rachel sighed and speared a crouton. It crunched nicely between her teeth. She tried to guess Tina's train of thought. "Don't tell anyone, but Shelby is as well. She really _is _my mother."

Tina's eyes lowered. Brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, she settled her elbows onto the table, "Oh… So there's more of you than I expect? You, your fathers, Shelby, Lord Tubbington…"

Thinking about Sebastian behind Tina, Rachel blanched. "It's purely luck, really," she explained, adopting her 'teacher voice' again, "Depending on what race, there are more or less of us. Also, we tend to stay where we're safe. It's also pretty regulated, actually." Taking a deep breath, Rachel sat back in the booth, picking up her napkin to fluff it out and put it back onto her lap. One corner of her lips quirked up. "It's not like a global conspiracy or anything. Not like Men in Black, either. We do have mailing lists, but we don't have a mandatory census."

"So, wait." Lifting a hand, Tina stared at her. Darting her eyes back and forth, she lowered her voice, "Does the government _know_ about you?"

"Me? Or, in general?"

"You? No, everyone. I don't know!"

Rachel couldn't help it. She was enjoying the wide eyed nervous expression Tina had. This really was going better than she could have predicted! Still, all she really _could _answer was, "Yes and no."

"Rachel!"

"Rachel what?" a soft male voice spoke up from beside them, and Rachel turned to see an awkwardly standing Mike splitting his attention between her and his girlfriend. Sitting further back in the booth, almost wedging herself into the corner to seem as unthreatening as she could, she smiled at him. But… "I thought Brittany and Santana were going to be with you?"

Mike offered her a small smile, finally giving in and sliding into the booth next to Tina, giving her a quick kiss hello on the cheek. "They're here. Santana just dragged Brittany into the bathroom. Ooh, breadsticks!"

"You better be gettin' your hands off my 'sticks," Santana's voice warned, suddenly appearing in the space Mike had just vacated. Clad in her Cheerio jacket with her hair still high up in its traditional ponytail, she quickly flicked her gaze between Rachel, the space next to her, the booth on the other side of the wall, Brittany, and back. Her face tightened. "_Fine_," she forced out, sounding as unwilling as she could, dropping into the spot next to Rachel, glaring at her, "But you better not poke _anything _weird in my direction." Forcing Rachel to shove even _closer _to the wall, she finally turned and told Brittany to go ahead and sit next to her.

Rachel tried to hold her breath. Breadstix's booths were _not _meant for three people on one side. And even if all three of them weren't overly large, it was still a tight fit. She really _should _protest…

But as Santana's delicate perfume met her nose, their bodies touching the _barest _amount Santana could get away with, practically cuddled up to Brittany's side, Rachel's second heart gave a slow, fierce thump.

If she could have gotten away with it, she would have buried her head in her hands and burst into tears. This was not fair. Not fair at all.


	6. Chapter 5

The dinner was absolutely awkward. Rachel had had to push her shoulder into the end of the booth two times, _hard_. She'd had to shovel food into her mouth so fast not only did it look _ridiculous_, but it also irritated her implant. But anything to keep herself from putting her foot in her mouth. She'd already caught Sebastian sending her contemptuous smirks every so often, and Mike seemed to be too interested in watching her eat, Brittany babbling on and on about how she _knew _Lord Tubbington was an alien. Tina kept trying to bring up the government again, while Santana just seemed to be incredibly _angry _about something, as if she had been betrayed. Every time Rachel allowed herself to look at her, she was glaring back behind a never ending supply of breadsticks.

"Well, well, this is _interesting_," Sebastian's oily voice wafted over the room, Rachel's ears picking up the sound of his shoes clacking nearer.

Immediately, she forced a giant fake smile on her face. Turning her head to meet him, she paused, turned back to her plate and finished chewing, swallowing the bite of the breadstick she'd managed to steal from Santana (it hadn't been too hard, depressingly; Santana had shied away from her hand) she still had in her mouth. Coughing a little but still managing to address Sebastian before he properly reached the table, Rachel gave him the fake smile, "Sebastian. Here to wish me good evening?" Like his glares weren't enough.

Sebastian, perfectly coifed and stiffly presentable in his Dalton Academy uniform, gave the table an arrogant smirk, eyes drifting over everyone before focusing on Rachel. His smirk grew wider. "It looks like you're already having a _great _evening. Though," He looked at Mike and Tina and Santana in turn, "Wouldn't _sushi_ or _tacos _been a better dinner to have chosen?"

"_Excuse_ me?" Santana sat up, voice hardening, "Did anyone ask you to open those gay lips of yours and tells us what we's can or can'ts be eating?"

Rachel put her hand on Santana's arm, making her jerk and snap her head around to stare at her. "Don't bother," Rachel shook her head, making no move to take her hand back as she addressed Sebastian again; she could feel the warmth of Santana's skin through her jacket, and her second heart picked up, "Sebastian, are you looking for _real_ conversation?"

Sebastian smiled mockingly at her. "No," he answered breezily, "I just couldn't help but hear what you and your… Friends, is it? …Were talking about." He clucked his tongue, wagging his finger back and forth, "Tsk, tsk, Ræa-ch-llê, whatever will your pod think? This should be…" He smirked at everyone at the table again, his eyes lingering on Rachel as he moved back, turning on his heel, "_Interesting_."

"…We didn't just get you in trouble… Did we?" Mike asked reluctantly, looking away from Sebastian's back as he walked away. Next to him, Tina looked alarmed too, a guilty expression quickly taking over her face.

Rachel made a face. "No," she replied shortly, sitting back in her seat, letting her hand slide off Santana's arm, "He's just an obnoxious jerk. And _his _family is a pod. Mine's a _unit_." Growling, Rachel realized no one was saying anything, so she looked up. "Old grievances," she expanded.

"Okay, no, no, _no_. I don't _believe _this!" Her voice low and hard, Santana glared at Rachel, "Just _how_ many of you _are_ there? Do I have to be afraid that everyone I _pass _is going to be a fucking _alien_?"

"_San_," Brittany started, but the damage had been done.

Rachel felt blindsided. Flinching back, she opened her mouth, then closed it. "Right. Okay." Averting her eyes from everyone at the table, not wanting to see their expressions, she sat up straight. "Would you be so kind as to move? I wish to leave this booth."

"Rachel! She didn't mean it – "

"What are you doing?"

"Rache?"

"No, no, it's fine," she smiled fakely, shaking her head while inching towards Santana, already deciding on climbing over the booth if she didn't move; her second heart had stuttered as she'd digested what she had heard, and it was throwing off her system, making her feel just a bit nauseous; with a sinking feeling, she remembered she didn't have any of her injecters with her, "I just think that some fresh air would do me some good." Fresh air. …And space before her already tenuous hold on herself died, the tingling in her shoulders starting to increase.

Really, she shouldn't have been surprised. Santana had never been the most accepting person. But out of every reaction she could have wanted, alienism wasn't one of them. Perhaps she was as naïve as her fathers warned her.

"No."

Rachel blinked, faltering in her plan of pushing Santana out of her way by crowding her space. "Brittany?"

"No," Brittany repeated, crossing her arms. "Rachel, you're not going anywhere. Santana." She turned her steely gaze on Santana, "Apologize."

Santana's lips firmed, and, bobbing her head in an insolent motion, she leaned back, crossing her own arms. "I don't do apologies," she said flatly. "And especially when they're not needed."

"I think it was needed," Mike muttered, Tina nodding wordlessly next to him, eyes fixed squarely on Santana.

Letting out a quiet breath of air, a hint of a scoff in it, Santana's voice was more annoyed than disrespectful when she said, "Come _on_. I'm a bitch. I'm not going to change anytime soon."

"Uhm…" Closing her eyes and breathing shallowly, Rachel nodded. "This, this is nice, but I really _do _need some fresh air."

"Rachel?" Rising, peering over at her, Tina frowned, "Are you okay?"

This was embarrassing. "…No, to be honest. I, uhm, left something in my car I really…" She put her hand to her forehead. It had been a while since she'd had one of these fits, but she _really_ should have expected one, seeing as her second phase was just getting started… All the better to exacerbate her slowly growing subtle mutation. "…Really need."

Brittany all but scrambled out of the booth, pulling Santana with her, Tina and Mike following a second later. Accepting Mike's hand to help leave the booth as well, Rachel shook her head when he offered to help her outside as well. "No, no, I'm fine. This is a…" she grimaced, "An unfortunate side effect of my current phase. But I'll be able to do it myself. You stay and keep the table."

"Look what you did," Brittany hissed, jabbing Santana with her elbow. Opening her mouth to refute what the blonde was saying, Rachel decided it really didn't matter when she had to slap her hand over her shoulder, hurrying off with a mumbled, "Be back soon."

As soon as the cool fresh air flowed in through her system a second after she stepped outside, Rachel felt herself calming enough to slow down. Stupid, she chastised herself, shaking her head, _stupid_. What had she expected? Get outed as a non-human, possibly losing most of the only friends she'd every cultivated? Get confronted and taunted by Sebastian? The hostilities from Santana? All that and she _hadn't_ expected to feel stressed?

Yes. She really should have had an injector on her.

Her hand shaking a little as she clicked the key fob, unlocking her Prius, Rachel crawled into the back seat. Lying on her side, she pulled her backpack towards her from the front seat, struggling a little until she had the correct pocket unzipped. Fishing an injector out, she moved the bottom of her skirt out of the way, baring her inner thigh, and with a click and slight pinch, cooling fluid was racing through her body, the tingles and nausea subsiding almost instantly.

Sighing deeply, Rachel put her hand to her forehead, tangling her fingers in her bangs. "No…" she laughed humorlessly, collecting her bearings to get ready to leave her car and enter the public again, "Maybe I need to start thinking about the most likely outcome of this mess… And not my optimistic hopes."


	7. Chapter 6

When she got back to the table, everything was normal, if a little strained. Brittany had already pushed Santana into the seat she'd been occupying so she could give Rachel the aisle seat in case she needed to run again, and the blonde was actually about to shake what looked to be like the whole salt shaker into a glass of water for her. Touched, though having to laugh a little at the weird looks their table was getting from the wait staff before Santana growled at them, Rachel had stopped her before she went too far. She didn't have the heart to tell the blonde that, yes, there _was _a difference between rock salt and sea salt, inasmuch as it applied to Satyrns. At least the amount of salt Brittany had managed to get into it wouldn't be any worse than what the drinking fountain water did to her. Besides, with her fresh injection, her implant would be back to top form.

"So how are your parents going to take it? …This."

Taking a swallow of her saltwater, hoping her shiver wasn't too noticeable, Rachel looked up at Mike's sweet concerned expression. "You mean…" she smirked a little, "My 'coming out'?"

Santana shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah. Are they going to get mad at you?"

Rachel took a second to think before answering. "They… Won't be _upset_ with me. Just… Disappointed, maybe. I mean, probably more like," she lowered her voice, "'You should have seen this coming, Ræa.'"

"Will you get punished or grounded or anything like that?" Tina asked.

"No, I don't believe so."

"How does that work?"

Rachel turned her attention to Santana. "I'm sorry?"

Santana shrugged indifferently, picking up her glass of iced tea. "What I said." Her voice was low, still tinged with her earlier scorn, "It's just been _revealed_ that you're not human, there are _numerous _chances someone will expose that, and your fathers won't _care_?"

"Hey, are you thinking of _telling_ – " Mike jumped forward in his seat.

"_Santana_!" Brittany glared at her.

"Guys, guys," Rachel interrupted, waving her hands in the air, "Please don't jump to conclusions. That's _not_ what she said, was it?" Taking in a deep breath, she glanced at Santana, almost holding her breath until the girl rolled her eyes, using her spoon to stir her tea before flicking her hand in a dismissive motion. "See? No. I think she has a valid question.

"Look," Rachel took another sip of her salt water, meeting everyone's eyes in turn, "Even if someone _did _come forward with this information, it's not like it would go very far before… Disappearing." Her lips quirked up at the dawning look of conspiracy that flowed in varying degrees across everyone's faces.

Brittany dropped her attention to her plate, leaning her chin onto the palm of her hand. "Is that why no one would believe me when I talked about Lord Tubbington?"

A ripple of _ohh_ replaced the uneasy thrill around the table.

"That's probably… A part of it," Rachel allowed, nodding.

"A big part," Tina added, smiling hastily.

"Then what's the other part?"

Santana sighed harshly. "People are stupid, B. That's it." Taking another sip of her tea, she glared at everyone else, _daring _them to say anything.

Mike looked down, lips pursing, eyebrows bunching together. Tina leaned into his shoulder, giving Brittany a shamed glance.

Hastening to elevate the mood of the table again, Rachel pressed her hand to Brittany's upper arm. "Hey," she smiled, "I know this isn't the perfect response, but at least now everyone knows and will listen to you, right?"

"I guess…" Brittany studied Rachel's face, eyes finally falling to look at her hand on her arm. Her gaze sharpened, and a curious smile took over her face, her other hand coming up to wrap around Rachel's. "So your skin's really white, right? Shiny?" Studying her hand closely, the blonde lifted it up as if to peer at it through the fluorescent lights above, "How do you – how are you hiding it?"

"And, uhm," a light flush crept up Mike's face as he butted in, smiling apprehensively, hopefully, "Can we… _See_ you again?"

Not bothering to pull her hand back from Brittany even though it was tickling a little, deciding it wouldn't do any harm – and really, _maybe _it was just nice that there was someone who wasn't afraid or completely put off physically by her – Rachel picked up her fork again, spearing a tomato from her salad and pushing it into her mouth to give herself some time to think while she chewed. "Well…" she finally sighed, setting her fork down and meeting Mike's gaze before branching out to encompass Tina and Brittany and Santana's in turn, "I don't see why not."

Brittany's fingers tightened around her hand. "Really?" she gasped, ecstatically excited.

Tina leaned forward, squeezing Mike's arm. "Me too. _Really_?"

Nodding, Rachel did her best to seem like she was not extremely interested in how Santana was going to react. Darting her eyes quickly in the other girl's direction when she leaned forward in mimicry of Tina, a soft sigh left her mouth. Though Santana was staring at Rachel, eyebrows furrowed, it still appeared like she was more vested in her breadstick. Hearts sinking, Rachel looked away.

Santana cleared her throat. "Great," her voice dripped with disdain, shrugging and leaning back against the booth, "Time for you to show us even more just how much more of a freak you _actually_ are. I can hardly wait."

* * *

><p>"Dad? Daddy?" Dropping her keys into the bowl on the small table in the entryway, Rachel moved aside to allow the four teens to pass her, "I'm home and I brought guests…?" When no one answered her, she silently sighed with relief. The longer her parents weren't around to <em>talk <em>with her, the longer she wouldn't have to deal with getting _through _that talk.

Pulling her coat off, hanging it onto the coat rack, Rachel dropped her chin. Taking a deep breath, she put a self assured smile on her face before turning around. "Please, make yourself at home," she offered graciously, motioning at the coat rack before starting to pad towards the kitchen and living room, kicking her shoes off at the shoe hutch on her way, "Anyone thirsty?" One of her specially prepared liquid refreshments sounded _amazing _at the moment.

"I don't know if I want to chance accepting any strange alien _substance_ into my body." Santana crossed her arms. She made no move to take off her Cheerio jacket.

Poking her, Brittany slipped off her jacket, hanging it next to Rachel's. "What do you have?" she smiled.

Mike and Tina followed suit, and suddenly the Berræ-dan coat rack was red and white with McKinley High jackets, Tina's black coat blending in with her father's overcoat. Eyes catching on the random evidence of popularity she had so often strived for, Rachel stared at it wistfully; popularity was all but guaranteed not to happen now.

"I have bottled water," she averted her gaze, gesturing for them to follow her into the kitchen, "Or some soda of my Dad's."

"You have a nice home," Mike smiled, looking around, "It's easier to see when sober, that's for sure." He grinned when Tina teased, "I see you _weren't _lying about chrome or buttons. Is there _anything _in this house that's…"

"Alien-ish?" Brittany piped up, "And I'll have some water, please."

Well, wasn't Brittany being polite. Opening the refrigerator and pulling out a water bottle, then three more just in case Mike, Tina, and Santana would end up wanting some, Rachel set them onto the nearest counter. For herself, she turned to the freezer. Reaching for one of the gray plastic pouches bundled together to one side, she was highly aware of the attention her movements were prompting, and her fingers wavered before they slid along its slightly tacky surface. Pulling it out, she popped open the tab in a practiced motion, pouring the thick, half-frozen tan paste into a glass waiting by the microwave. Sliding the glass into the microwave and setting it for four and a half minutes, she swiveled around on her foot.

"While that's heating up," she smiled, lifting a hand to start playing with her hair again, twining strands around her fingers, "I can show you our indoor pool. That's kind of…" She wrinkled her nose, "'_Alien-ish'_."


End file.
